Tuesday, December 4, 2012

Cry Out for Israel... Novel by Steven D. Greenberg Stunning!

Enfold Me’ takes place in a post-Israel Middle East.
The author worked with a professional
cartographer to create the above map,
which illustrates this fictitious geopolitical reality.



Enfold Me:
A Novel of Post-Israel


By Steven D. Greenberg


..Devastating..
...Stunning...
....Unforgettable....


"Israel is no more"...

"What? Impossible!"

I can imagine talking to Judith Stitzel or Enid Portnoy on the WVU campus...both professors and my friends. What could I say to them? I realize nothing--but I could hug them...and hold them as we cried...

So I would have also if I had met Daniel Blum, the main character. He, too, was an American, but he had relocated to Israel when he married. He was there during The Fall...

By the time you read this novel, and I hope that you do, you will not be able to tell whether the destruction you will read about was done by the earthquake, or by the military actions that immediately took place... by neighboring countries of what was once called...Israel...

Daniel Blum knew only that he could be thankful that his home still stood, even though there were no working utilities. Daniel was the type of guy that had puttered around at home and he had installed solar panels from which earlier he had even sold electricity he did not use. Now, he used it secretly, at odd times, so that they would not realize that he had access to his computer. He had finally gotten email back up to go out at least, so he spent time writing to his children and his wife who had gone to America until they could come back--if they ever could.

He had been on his own for about a year now, but was helping with the resistance, routinely providing reports after watching...

[Let me stop here a minute to share that I read the ebook version of this novel. Sometimes this makes it harder to fully  pick up on what is happening, since there is usually no blurb of the contents provided. And since you can not easily go back and find a certain part to better understand...So I will say that I had a little confusion when flashbacks started...I beg you to work to pick up what is somehow diluted when ebook formats limit effective, easy exploration of a novel.]

It was a familiar face, therefore, that appeared at Daniel's door one day. Nobody had knocked since before...The Fall...

George Farrah and Daniel Blum had been involved in a horrible event on the college campus where they both attended.George was a man of action, of controlling a situation. Daniel cared, but was not quite as prepared... During a race-related incident, a young girl had been killed. George had been involved in calming the situation but Daniel had also--George had accused Daniel of causing the death...

Now he was here, explaining to Daniel that he represented the group who would make all arrangements to get him to the United States. Daniel was having a hard time even trusting George, and certainly didn't want to travel with him!

Readers should be prepared to experience the devastation, the fear, the anger of war, especially when those who have invaded act brutal, having no limits in what they are willing to do. Even the gangs which had been active in Israel, now were leaders in acting freely and openly to rob and kill their former neighbors--all with the help of the Egyptian government representatives who had claimed they had come into the country to help... of course, expecting to be paid for their efforts.

Witness those who come to claim the materials brought by UN workers and must fight each other in order to keep from starving...

Now George wanted Daniel to come with him, through all the dangers of escaping without being killed or captured. But, Daniel kept questioning, not completely trusting anybody...

The stunning ending will show why...

This complex life story must be absorbed in toto. Daniel had experienced much early in his life that led to his eventual PTSD-like nightmares and other symptoms. Flashbacks to the harsh realities of dealing with white supremacists had never left him. When it extends beyond into something far worse, then is when you will finally come to know Daniel Blum. The psychological suspense is slow and prodding, so be prepared to meet Daniel on his terms, in his life, as he understood it...

An amazing story, if you dare read it...


GABixlerReviews

"The silence on Ibn Gabirol was broken by a convoy of white trucks bearing UN license plates, which snorted and lumbered down the street, kicking up elephantine clouds of dust despite their snail-like pace. A small but growing group of grey-clad figures was falling in behind the convoy, quietly yet with obvious intensity. Tightening the kerchief around my face and noting grimly that we all looked like bad caricatures of trail-hardened cowboys, I fell in step next to a thin man holding an even thinner child by the hand. I noticed that his clothes weren’t actually grey, but rather dust-covered. I also noticed the unhealed gash across the child’s face, the gauntness of his cheekbones, the haunted look in his eyes, and the plastic bags clutched in his free hand. He looked at me briefly with bovine serenity, and looked away.

“What’s the story with the trucks?” I asked the man with as much conviviality as the Poe-esque backdrop allowed. He didn’t answer, nor even turn to look in my direction. I tried again, adding an edge of gentleness to my voice, “Is this the food distribution? I just got into town.” Still the man was silent, his jaw set in grim determination, the boy beside him skipping to keep up with his long paces. We walked past the intersection with Jabotinsky Street, more figures joining the impromptu grey parade.

I turned to the other side and addressed the same question to a 30-something, stocky woman. She was wearing a formerly red shirt, jeans that may once have been blue, a motorcycle helmet, and what appeared to be ice hockey  goalie pads over her torso. She carried a baseball bat loosely in one hand, and a water jug in the other. A ragged daypack hung loosely from one broad shoulder. Her posture spoke of grim determination, and she answered me curtly, in a voice muffled by the full-face helmet, “New in town? Well, you’re headed to food and water distribution from our friends at the UN. Same time every day, same place. But if you were planning on getting any, you may be disappointed.”

She saw me stare at her regalia, and lowered her eyes as if embarrassed, or at least momentarily conscious of what she must look like to an outsider. Then she brushed her hands fruitlessly against the padding on her chest, trying unsuccessfully to clean off some of the white dust coating them. She offered me a calloused hand, which I took. Her grip was tight, warm but suspicious, pleading in its sincerity but wary. “Where are my manners? Welcome to the new White City,” she half-laughed, as the chalky dust from her hand stuck to mine. “Get it, white – like the dust?” I could hear the smile in her voice under the helmet, sincere yet transient. When she next spoke, it was in a tone that tacitly sought approval yet preemptively defied judgment. “I got three kids at home, OK? This,” she indicated the helmet, pads and bat, “is how I make sure they have something to eat and drink. Good luck to you.” She added a small burst of speed to her stride, and moved away from me...

~~~



About this author

Born in 1967, I am a professional writer and an Israeli. I am also a full-time cook, cleaner, chauffeur, and work-at-home Dad for three amazing young children, and the lucky husband of a loving and very supportive wife.

Born in Texas and raised in Fort Wayne, Indiana, I emigrated to Israel only months before the first Gulf War, following my graduation from Indiana University in 1990. In 1996, I was drafted into the Israel Defense Forces, where I served for 12 years as a Reserve Combat Medic. Since 2002, I’ve worked as an independent marketing writer, copywriter and consultant.








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